


In A Place As Ugly As This

by aliccolo (guti)



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: F/F, Implied F/F, Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:53:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3717607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guti/pseuds/aliccolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jessica is alone in the filthiest hotel room in the filthiest city on the planet, and all she can do to calm herself and  keep her mind off killing Skrulls is think about her former roommate and ex-partner, Lindsay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In A Place As Ugly As This

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during Issue #1-2 of the 2010 Spider-Woman series, when Jessica is in the nasty hotel in Madripoor. I originally wrote this in 2010.

When she stepped out of the shower, she was sure she was dirtier than she had been when she stepped in. The whole hotel room reeked of sweat and filth and grime, the bathroom was no different, but she'd felt this compulsive need to wash her skin, and scrub away everything that she'd come in contact with. She'd only been in Madripoor for what? Seven hours? And already the decay of the city and permeated every pore of her body. She wouldn't feel clean again, not until she got off the island, and not until she was safe and warm and in her own bedroom.

The air was so humid and sticky that using a towel would have been a waste of energy. Not that she'd even touch the towel to her bare skin. She may have just used the shower, but she wasn't insane enough to use a towel that hadn't been washed in God only knew how long. Instead, Jessica stood, drenched and sweating, staring at her reflection in the cracked and grimy mirror. The dinky little fan from the bedroom was providing enough breeze that if she stayed put right there on the tile, she'd be dry within the hour. Or maybe a little longer.

She studied her face for a good few minutes, every line and angle, the arches of her brow, the profile of her nose. If she stared at her face long enough, maybe she'd get used to the idea that people hated it. Fingers pressed to her cheek, she bit back a frown, an angry breath caught in the back of her throat. 

Her face. Her face.

She had to stop staring or she'd get fixated on what had happened and why she was in the horrible room on the horrible island. She'd have all the time in the world to think about the Skrulls and plot their down fall, and all the wonderful, government sanctioned ways she could get her revenge. But now, this afternoon, she wanted to clear her head and relax.

Waiting to air dry was getting tiresome. With one last glance at her appearance, she flung her tangled, dripping hair over her shoulder and padded quietly over to the bed, collapsing on it in a graceless pile of legs and dirty linens. She'd have to shower again anyway, may as well make use of the bedroom.

The ceiling was brownish. It was white once, Jessica could see spots of the original color showing through the patches of dark in strange, hypnotizing patterns. She might have stared at the for longer except that her mind started to wander again. Not to Skrulls this time, but to the hookers, downstairs in the hotel bar, glaring daggers, bodies reeking of jealousy and rage. Jessica's lips quirked into a smug little smile, hand dragging softly over her belly. Yes, jealous. They were jealous of her. Because she was beautiful, because the men in the room couldn't take their eyes off her. Just the same way she couldn't take her eyes off the girls at the bar.

Maybe that's why they'd been so agitated. They saw that predatory glint in her eye, and they were afraid. Not for their potential clients, and not of their pimps, but of Jessica, and all the wickedly wonderful things she would do to them if any of them dared come near enough.

Jessica fought back a throaty laugh, brushing her thumb below her navel, shaking her head almost sadly. Damn those women. Damn all women. It wasn't her fault her powers seemed to drive them away while simultaneously luring in every man that crossed her path. She'd have had it the other way around, if given the choice, but nature and science thought otherwise. She was stuck. She'd make due. And she'd just have to focus her attentions on girls who weren't easily influenced by the pheromones and chemical-karma she emitted.

Girls like Lindsay. God, she hadn't thought of her in ages it seemed. Sweet, gentle, genuine Lindsay. The girl who believed in her, and loved her, without question or malice or ulterior motive of any kind. If there was ever a woman to love, it was Lindsay McCabe. Jessica's eyes fluttered shut, remembering perfectly how soft Lindsay skin was when she just came out of the shower, how she'd stare at Jessica with those big doe eyes, batting them playfully as she'd slip into bed beside her, running her fingers carefully along her spine. Lindsay was the first woman to ever like Jessica, even as a friend, and the first woman to love her. And, perhaps fittingly, she was one of the only people she knew who could stomach a cesspool like Madripoor. Funny how someone so innocent and beautiful could be at home in a place as ugly as this. 

Her body complimented Jessica's own so perfectly, soft curves and feminine where Jessica was lean and muscular. Lindsay's hips had that ideal roundness to them, womanly and full, and her breasts too were so delicate and round. It was very easy to pretend she was cupping Lindsay's breasts instead of her own, pinching at her nipples, letting the skin prickle and react beneath her fingertips. Lindsay's body reacted differently to her touch, but it was easy to pretend now, to imagine taking the pink flesh in her mouth, rolling it gently and desperately against her tongue, suckling at one and caressing the other. Jessica dug her nails into her own breast, body aching at the memories.

She could almost smell Lindsay's shampoo too. Peaches. Sweet peaches. And for a moment, Jessica completely forgot that it was her own fingers slipping inside of her. Here, in this filthy hotel room, sweating from the humidity and maybe from the nostalgia, it was easy to fall into fantasy and imagine Lindsay kissing down her neck and sternum, breath barely licking over her skin. It was easy to remember the scent of peaches in her honey blond hair, to remember the heady purrs she'd make when Jessica tangled her fingers in her hair and tugged at her gently. Lindsay had the most amazing mouth. She could babble complete nonsense and make it sound like she was quoting Shelley or Byron, and when she was done speaking, she'd starting kissing and licking again, murmuring happily as she would draw the most ecstatic moans and sobs from Jessica, making her twist and writhe with pleasure.

"Jessie..." She would teased between strokes, giggling devilishly, pausing to kiss Jessica's inner thighs. She could hear her voice, so crystal clear, like the memory wasn't a memory anymore, like it was real, like she was lying there in bed with her. It was too much, the thought was just too much.

"Lindsay...oh Lindsay..."

Right now, that's all Jessica could think about, touching herself gingerly at first, then growing bolder and faster as she withdrew her slick fingers and began focusing on her clit, rubbing harder and at just the right angle to make her toes curl and her hips twitch in climax. She lie there for a few minutes, a spent, useless heap, twisted randomly amongst the stained blanket and sheets. Panting so heavy, it felt like she was crying, she finally opened her eyes and stared up at the spots on the ceiling again.

Lindsay wasn't there. She knew she wouldn't be, but for some reason, Jessica's heart literally sank into her gut. She might not have thought of that girl in forever, but she'd have paid her very last dime to see her again right now. She might have even pawned Brand's stupid Skrull detector, just for the chance to throw her arms around her and kiss her again and ask her where they'd gone wrong. Maybe Lindsay was still working Madripoor as a detective. It might be worth it to look her up, since she was in town on business and all. A minute or two spent with a beautiful American beat a thousand nights alone in a shitty hotel room.

But instead, she was alone in the shittiest hotel room in the shittiest corner of the planet, on a mission to slay as many Skrulls as she possibly could. It wasn't a bad trade off, perhaps, but in the heat of the moment, Jessica would really have preferred their bed in their apartment in California to where she was now. And every second she spent lying in the bed, she was sure she was even closer to contracting some horrible disease. With a soft, lusty sigh, she dragged herself off the bed, skin still glistening and slick from the shower and the heat, and perhaps from her own moment of abandon, and she stumbled back to the bathroom. May as well shower again.

May as well repeat the process.


End file.
